I grew-up on the families small fruit farm. Eight of us kids including cousins with a age differance of 12 years. I was the youngest. There were about six neighbor kids with-in a mile. BB guns where big. It was our job to keep the black birds out of the cherry trees. Many a chickmunk never made it either.
Tree forts were every wheres. I'm talking 15 - 20 foot up. Shingled roof. Allowed to camp out in them on weekends. PB&J sandwiches were breakfest and lunch. More than once someone fell/pushed out for doing something wrong.
Played army alot. When our BB guns where up graded to 22's somebody was going to lose more than a eye.
When we played cowboy and indian the younger group ended up being the indians and got the bow & arrows while the cowboys had the BB guns. Its amazing none of us ever got taken away.
In the winter we had this hill "toilet hill" (because of the two hole outhouse at the bottom) that we would sled down. Would build a snow jump to launch us into the air. We all had the wind knocked out of us several times.
Started one brush fire from shooting bottle rockets at each others tree forts. Lost one tree fort and grouned for a week, in the middle of summer
We would leave the house after breakfest and be home in time for supper. Never a care where you went or what you did. During the week dinner was at noon. That was the big meal of the day.
I can remember my uncles going the the Grange for square dancing on weekends.
I think I'm still living on the edge at 56. Cannondale quad, Harley roadking, three chainsaws and a GF younger than me.
Oh, I still live on that same farm, its been broken up but its still all owned by family. Just no more farming. Now some rentals.
